


Cherry Lipgloss

by scoutshonour



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Studying, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison tutors Malia in French.</p><p>"Can I kiss you?" </p><p>Allison's eyes widen and her mouth slightly drops, like this is such an inappropriate question for Malia to ask, and maybe it is inappropriate, but Malia really wants to know what that pink lip gloss coating her lips taste like, and what better way to find out than from a kiss? She also wants to know what it feels like to be underneath Allison, but a kiss wouldn't be so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Lipgloss

If she's being totally honest, the one thing Malia wants right now is Allison's body pressed against hers, not listen to Allison's mini-lessons on French, which, much to her dismay, is mostly in French. Even though Allison sounds like a goddess when she speaks French, she understands nothing that Allison's saying, so she mostly tunes out, only focused on Allison and not what she's saying. And how can she when Allison looks like that, and is wearing what she's wearing? Seriously, it shouldn't be legal for that blouse of her to dip so low, and it's _so_ damn distracting, she can't focus. She knows she should be listening, and  _not_ thinking about Allison and her body, but it's difficult. She should be thankful that Allison agreed to tutoring her since this semester's French was much more difficult than before, but the only thing she's thankful for are short-skirts.

 

She knows she's kind of being creepy, thinking about Allison like that, but holy shit, she is  _beautiful_ and it's not like she's going to say what she's thinking aloud and actually, visibly bother or pester Allison. So she pretends to listen and fantasizes about reaching underneath that flimsy skirt of hers, never acting on the impulses she has. Not yet, at least.

 

So whenever Allison asks, "You understand?" or "You get it?" in English, she just nods with a small, thin-lipped smile and says, "Yes". (It forces her to pay attention again, too, since she actually understands the English, but is, naturally, lost shortly. French is a really boring subject, in all fairness.  _Does it matter if I know how to order a pizza,_ Malia thinks bitterly.)

 

"Okay, translate this sentence to English than and put it in present tense," Allison says, and that's what snaps Malia out of her lust-filled thoughts and back to reality - her speaking English, words that Malia actually understands and a command to do something she definitely  _cannot._

 

"What?" She says, brows scrunching together in disbelief. Does Allison seriously think she's capable of translating? She knows her basic French, sure, but this is a whole new level of 'what the fuck does this say' and isn't as easy as French last semester, even though these are questions Allison created herself. She asks the question again, even if she knows what Allison says. It's like she expects Allison to change her mind and say, "You know what? Let's quit studying and make out!"

 

Naturally, Allison says neither of those things, calmly and with a grin, explaining again.

 

"Uh, uh," she fumbles for an excuse, because as she looks down to the sentence Allison refers to, there is literally no word she understands. Taking French this semester and _again_ was literally the dumbest decision she could ever make, and even with Allison's help, she still has no idea what's going on. "Can I have the dictionary, at least?" She asks, sounding hopeful.

 

Allison just grins, canting her head to the side with an all-too cheery, "Nope." Her lips, shimmering with a pink lip gloss which rank number four on Malia's list of "Things About Allison Argent That Are Distracting" (#4: Allison's shiny lips that Malia wants to press hers against really badly), pop giddily. "Come on - we  _just_ went over this. Stop being so pessimistic, and have some faith in yourself," she scolds. "You can do this," she insists, rolling over her bed and making her way to her desk. "Tell me when you're done," she says absentmindedly, typing away at the computer. She has her own homework to finish, Malia assumes.

 

Malia groans, planting her face into Allison's bed sheets. "I hate this language. I hate languages, period. Why can't there just be one, universal language that everyone speaks? That'd be  _so_ less complicated," she complains.

 

She can hear Allison distinctly making a tut sound, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, to show her disdain. "The world would be too boring and normal and plain with one language," she says dismissively. " And If the sentence is too hard, finish the  _passe composer_ questions I wrote on the sheet for you."

 

 _There we go,_ Malia thinks excitedly, because dealing with past tenses in French is the only thing she' semi-decent at and actually understands. It's easy, she thinks, going over the rules again in her mind, writing them down on her sheet like Allison told her to do in a test. She's scribbling away, listening to the white noise of Allison's fingers clicking against the computer's keys and Allison's steady breathing. It's relaxing, calming to hear Allison's breathing, reminding her she isn't alone, that she has someone here with her.

 

After everything, she hates being alone and likes company. Especially when Allison's there.

 

"Let's make things interesting," Allison says suddenly.

 

"Hmm?" She lifts her head up from her work, staring at Allison with a confused pair of eyes.

 

"If you get everything right, we'll come to an early end for this session and just hang out for the next bit. Deal?" 

 

Feeling a wave of determination and confidence in herself, she nods, murmuring a, "Deal," before continuing. It doesn't take her long to finish, scribbling the answers down quickly and messily, but she doesn't care about her handwriting. When she's finished her last question, she drops her pencil down melodramatically with a  _thud_ onto her notebook. "Done," she declares proudly.

 

Allison grins again, looking amused as she steps toward Malia. 

 

Malia scoots over to the edge of Allison's bed, and when Allison's close enough, she tugs on her wrists and raises the sheet of paper to her eyes. 

 

Allison crouches, furrowing her eyebrows. "Pass me a pencil," she says.

 

Malia does just that, watching eagerly as Allison, in a tortuously slow pace, checks off each question until she's finished. "I'm impressed, Malia - you got them each right." Allison looks proud, smiling at Malia. "You're done with French, for today at least."

 

Malia grins, because  _fuck yes,_ her session is over and she doesn't have to pretend like she cares about what Allison is saying and like she understands what's happening. She pats the spot next to her, gesturing Allison to sit and when she does, Malia stares deep into Allison's eyes. 

 

Allison looks confused, like she doesn't understand the apparent fascination Malia has with her eyes. "What're you doing, Malia?" She asks with a shaky laugh. 

 

She can hear Allison's heartbeat increasing, so she presses her hand against her chest where she can feel it beat, in an attempt to slow it down. It beats loudly, and she can feel it."Your heart's goin' crazy," she fills in before Allison can say anything.

 

"O-kay," Allison says, her confused expression never wavering, but she doesn't object. "How's, uh, how's second semester treating you? Is it what you anticipated?" Allison asks, heartbeat increasing with each passing second. 

 

Now Malia's the confused one, because she doesn't really get why Allison's making small talk and why it's about school. It's kind of amusing and cute, really, but mostly worrying. "It's a Saturday afternoon, and you're asking about school," she says, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. " _Why?_ " But deep down, Malia thinks she has an idea.

 

She shrugs, her heart (slowly) steadying itself, which results in Malia tentatively lowering her hand away from Allison's chest. "Can you blame me?" she says, voice sounding less strained before and more calm. She sounds less tense, too, which leaves Malia to the conclusion that her hand on her chest makes her nervous. "Your hand was literally just on my boobs," she says blankly, nervously laughing.

 

"Can I kiss you?" Malia blurts out, trying to have a layer of casualty in her voice. 

 

Allison's eyes widen and her mouth slightly drops, like this is such an inappropriate question for Malia to ask, and maybe it is inappropriate, but Malia really wants to know what that pink lip gloss coating her lips taste like, and what better way to find out than from a kiss? She also wants to know what it feels like to be underneath Allison, but a kiss wouldn't be so bad.

 

"Well?" Malia lifts her brows suggestively, trying to sound persuasive, but  _not_ pressuring. "It's okay if you don't want me to," she adds hastily when Allison just stares at her, dumbfounded. She doesn't want to pressure Allison, not wanting to make her do something she isn't comfortable with. "I totally get it, but I'm a very kiss-able person," she insists with absolute seriousness.

 

"No, no, no," she stammers, shaking her as she laughs. "You can - you can kiss me." She sounds nervous, but the good kind. The one mixed with excitement for something new, something Malia's never really felt. Strands of hair fall into her face, so Malia raises her hand and tucks them neatly behind her ear. That's what they do in the movies, right? Gotta make it romantic, right? She stares into Allison's eyes for what seems to be long, because Allison gets a little impatient. "Kiss me," Allison repeats, voice short of a demand, her breathing slowing down and her voice dropping to a hushed murmur.

 

There isn't that much space between them, so it's easy for Malia to kiss her. She closes the space between them, pressing her mouth roughly against Allison's. She notices that Allison's heart beat slowly, but eventually slows down, which puts Malia at ease to know she isn't nervous or anxious as she might have been before.

 

Allison squeaks, like she didn't expect Malia to kiss her so hard and bruisingly, but eases into it. Her hands tangle into Malia's hair and they sort of just sit there, on Allison's bed, kissing each other for what feels like a long time. Allison's hands play with Malia's hair, and Malia's hands go automatically to her waist. Malia sucks all the lip gloss off her mouth (which taste like cherries, by the way), pulling away after she's sucked all the taste. 

 

Malia wants to go further, but no, now isn't a good time and Allison might regret it, so she doesn't really push things or ask. But Allison takes Malia's hands that rest on her waist and bring them lower, down to her ass and fuck, that's really hot, Malia thinks. She feels something low, a vibration maybe, and wants, no,  _needs_ something, but she refrains, resists. 

 

"Have you ever kissed a girl before?" Malia asks when Allison pulls away to reapply another coat of lip gloss, and Malia doesn't even bother trying to hide the grin spreading onto her mouth. She  _knows_ that Allison wants her lip gloss smudged again. "I like your lip gloss, by the way," she adds cheekily, grinning widely. Malia's kissed people before.

 

She thinks vaguely of kissing Stiles in the basement of Eichen House, and she's sort of been on a kissing spree since then. Kissing Kira Yukimura when she was feeling anxious about her and Scott's relationship, telling her that she's a pretty good kisser and shouldn't worry. Kissing Lydia Martin when she freaked over having a crush on Braeden, and fearing that being with girls would be different than boys and Malia just decided to prove them wrong. But she wanted to kiss Allison not to prove a point, but because she wanted to, because Allison was beautiful, and because Allison was ...  _Allison._ Beautiful, kind, patient, funny, smart. 

 

"No," she admits, cheeks flushing red, looking extremely nervous. "I'll have to wear it more often," she says playfully.

 

Malia trails her knuckle down Allison's spine, trying to calm her down. She finds it kind of funny that Malia's been a teenager for a few months and has kissed more girls than Allison, but doesn't say anything. "We should kiss more often, you know," she says. "That would make French more tolerable."

 

Allison laughs, and within seconds, she flings her arms around Malia, pinning her to the sheets. "Shut up."

 

The word _gladly_ rises from her throat, but fails to make it out when Allison kisses her heatedly. _Finally,_ Malia thinks,  _I'm pressed up against Allison Argent._

 

* * *

A week after Malia tastes Allison's cherry lip gloss for the first time, it's four in the afternoon on a Sunday,, and they're sprawled across Malia's bed this time for another study session. Henry, Malia's father, is out with some friends (thankfully), which is mainly why Malia initiated the study session. Okay, it's the entire reason. "I got my test back, you know," Malia says giddily, because she's been waiting for the right time to tell her. She's swinging her legs back and forth on the edge of her bed merrily. 

 

Allison lifts her head from her History textbook, and Malia resists the urge to kiss her right then and there, because  _dammit,_ she looks so cute with her mouth slightly open, her doe-eyes widened and a brow arched. "Oh yeah?" She asks, detecting the excitement in Malia's voice instantly. She's wearing shorts that end at  _just_ the right spot around her ass, and judging from her shirt, she clearly isn't wearing a bra. Was she trying to make Malia a babbling mess? Malia has trouble finding the words to respond, too distracted at first, but she manages, because this news is too good for a smoking girl like Allison Argent to hide.

 

"I got an 82."  _The highest mark I've gotten since I was in the third grade,_ Malia wants to add, but she doesn't, trying not to be too boastful. But dammit, she deserves bragging rights, doesn't she?

 

"I am  _so_ proud of you," Allison gushes, a proud look (a look Malia's starting to see more often, now) on her face. She shuts her textbook, shifting until she's sitting upwards. She's giving Malia a suggestive and teasing look, like she wants a repeat of last Saturday and her lip gloss smudged again. Her gaze never leaves Malia's eyes once, while Malia doesn't really bother hiding her glances at Allison's chest. Allison doesn't seem to mind.

 

"I was thinking of my reward, and you came up in my mind," she explains, leaning forward to let her lips graze Allison's  _briefly,_ "and I thought we should make  _this_ a habit." Her hands slide down Allison's waist and hips, cupping her ass gently. Malia swears she hears a soft whine from Allison, and damn, that was hot.

 

"I agree," Allison says. "I'll give you your first reward," she whispers, and too slowly for Malia's taste, inches forward and captures her mouth into a fleeting kiss. 

 

Cherry lip gloss again, Malia notices.

 

 


End file.
